


The storm is getting under my skin

by Vyskalia



Series: Dead in the Water [1]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Gallaghercest | Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher Incest, M/M, Memories, Noel is a contradictory little shit but that's canon ok, Sad, Self-Indulgent, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyskalia/pseuds/Vyskalia
Summary: Noel pretends he's forgotten his past, but he remembers everything.My take on how Noel may have written Dead in the Water, with the infamous Loch Lomond moment thrown in for good measure.These boys break my heart.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher & Noel Gallagher, Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Dead in the Water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965613
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	The storm is getting under my skin

**Author's Note:**

> So after watching/hearing a few of Noel's accounts of how he wrote & recorded Dead in the Water, I had a little idea which became this little fic thing. It's pretty emo, but the song made me cry so I feel like that fits the vibe. 
> 
> It's also largely inspired by the legendary Loch Lomond kiss, which will remain in our Gallagher-shipping hearts forever amen.  
> The story jumps from present day to the '96 Loch Lomond gig in Noel's memories.  
> I've tried to stick to canon as much as I can. I really want to write a companion piece - a 'what happened next', from Liam's POV.....but for now it is just as it is. Present-day story is written in bold font, and Noel's memories are in regular font. 
> 
> I've never written anything on here before, so feedback would be lovely. Thank you to all the brilliant writers in this fandom who've inspired me.

**-**

**He was drunk.**

**Noel knew he should have stopped drinking and gone to bed hours ago. Instead he'd stayed tinkering on the guitar as the bottle of wine gradually emptied. The room was quiet; Sara and the kids were away in Scotland and Noel had rattled contentedly around the empty house on his own all day. A few phonecalls and an Amazon delivery had punctuated the solitude, and now it was late and he was stretched out in a reclining chair, some nature documentary burbling away quietly on the TV. He'd only really left it on for the cat, curled on the chair next to him, watching the screen intently.**

**The clock ticked onto 2.15am. Noel had the workings of a whole song pretty much complete; the strum pattern light and whispering, an echo of piano notes half-remembered in his mind. They would float alongside the melody, carrying the words like bobbing waves in rolling water.**

**The wine bottle was nearly empty. Noel felt his blood running warm under his skin as he started to hum scraps of lyrics, phrases, small nothings from the back of his mind as he listened to the ebb and flow of his guitar. It sounded like water, he thought hazily. Like water on a shore.**

**He suddenly remembered.**

**********

August the 5th, 1996. A Monday, in Scotland. Noel stood at the edge of the loch, in the rain; his face scrunched against the wind. He was listening. Listening to the hiss and swirl of the black water, rolling over the pebbles and leaving them sparkling under his feet. He was hungover and jittery from too many drugs, which felt normal. But this morning his heart felt like it was trying to snap in two and kill him, and that did not feel normal. It felt like he was dying.

The tour bus on the road behind him had started its engine. A couple of roadies were still throwing up behind a rock whilst Guigsy watched disconsolately. One of them had nearly been sick on him a moment earlier. Noel could hear the driver telling Bonehead they needed to go before the cars following them caught up, packed with fans and photographers. Bonehead was smoking a spliff and explaining he'd rather have his picture taken than have vomit in the tourbus, but the driver wasn't pursuaded, glaring back up the road.

Noel could only stare at the water, the words from the night before playing and replaying in his head.

''Why did you do it?'' Liam had been shitfaced, leaning against the hotel room door with his eyes closed. ''Why d'you snog me like that in front of all them fucking people? Y'know Patsy saw it right? She hasn't shut up about it since.''

''I don't know.'' Noel's voice was barely a whisper. ''I don't know, Liam. I was off my tits, like you were and all.''

''You never kissed me like that before,'' Liam muttered, ''on stage I mean, like, in front of that many.....It was weird. Good though. You should do it more.'' He grinned to himself, swaying slightly.

Noel flushed. ''Fuck off Liam.''

''Yeah, that's right'', Liam was slurring and his eyes were still shut, but he pushed his whole body in the doorway and grabbed a handful of Noel's shirt, ''do what y'always do and tell me to fuck off like tha'....like y'always do, you do. Always. Fuck off yourself anyway. Fuck off always, right?''. His head drooped onto his chest and for a moment Noel thought he'd passed out, until Liam giggled. ''Like you even want me to fuck off, liar. Liar. Liiiiiar.''

''You're talking shit, like you always talk shit,'' Noel's tone was patronising but he had to make an effort to not slur as badly as Liam. ''Now fuck off''.

Liam hadn't replied, instead he'd slowly leaned forward and licked Noel's neck, his breath warm and shaky against Noel's skin. When Noel had wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, Liam had just pressed his face into the crook of Noel's neck, his body going lax and heavy. ''You're a liar Noely'', Liam's voice was muffled, ''pretending all the time. All the time''. He repeated the words softly, his mouth wet on Noel's neck, a reminder of all the times before. A reminder of every quiet, desperate moment spent pressed against each other, of kissing like the end of the world was here. A reminder of whispered adoration and Liam's come coating Noel's hand and the aching love in Noel's chest every time he touched his brother. For a moment they stayed like that, Liam's breathing regular and slow against Noel's skin. An empty, wretched feeling was rising in Noel's throat as he curled a hand in Liam's hair and closed his eyes. Taking one last moment, one last touch.

Then he shoved Liam back and out of the doorway. ''I'm done, Liam'', his voice sounded thin and tired, ''all this...it's just done. Don't fucking touch me, ever again, got it? Don't fucking touch me.''

''Fuck off.'' Liam had been disbelieving.

''Don't tell me to fuck off, you little shit. And I mean it, we're done. Whatever we used to do, it's done. If people find out...''

Liam scowled. ''People? Fuck them, who cares what anyone thinks? How would they find out anyway?''

''Are you fucking out of your mind?'' Noel hissed, ''How would they find out? There's photographers everywhere, half your fans are fucking stalkers. Fuck's sake Liam, we're the biggest thing in the world, or haven't you noticed? So, I'm telling you now, it's done. It's over''.

Liam was silent.

Noel moved to shut the door. ''I'm going to sleep''.

''You're such a fucking coward''. Liam's voice was shaking. ''You're afraid of getting embarrassed and you want everyone to think you're something you ain't, you cunt.''

Noel shrugged. ''Yeah, maybe.''

''I hate you. I fucking hate you, you lying.....''

Noel never forgot the look in Liam's eyes as he shut the door in his face.

He'd drunk cheap shitty beer in his room all night and cried until his eyes burned. Then the sun had risen and he'd been marched onto the tourbus by Marcus. He was glad they'd needed to stop ten minutes down the road for the groaning, pale crew members who couldn't hold their drink and drugs. It made him feel slightly better to see others looking as miserable as he felt.

The water of the Loch was sparkling with fat droplets of rain starting to fall. Noel turned to go back to the bus. They were the biggest band in the world. They were going to take over the universe, and nothing was going to fuck that up, he promised himself. Nothing.

Not even love.

*********

**Noel poured the last drops of wine into his glass. It was sticky and sweet on his tongue. The clock ticked disapprovingly at him. The cat stared disapprovingly at him. A leopard was picking at the carcass of an antelope on the TV screen.**

**He let his head fall back against the sofa and closed his eyes, reaching for the melody and letting it piece itself together as he picked notes from the guitar. Behind his eyelids he could see cold water rolling over glossy pebbles. He knew the first lyrics now, anyway. He started to strum again. '' _On the shore as the night is slipping through my hands; I fell into the sea like the empire built on the sand._..''. He was half mumbling the words, memories creeping over him. **

**********

''You're wearing that? On stage? In Scotland??''. Noel had his arms crossed, eyes barely open as he lay almost horizontal on the couch. The room backstage was boxy and thin-walled, the damp Scottish air seeping gently through the cracks in the window.

''Yeah man'', Liam was jaunty, patting the woolly fabric and pretending to polish the toggles with his sleeve. The coat was more like a sheep crossed with a garment, and it engulfed his skinny frame, the material heavy and soft-looking. He stared at Noel, pulling the hood up and sticking his hands deep in the pockets.

''Say it then'', Liam grinned at his brother, ''I look fucking mega, say it''.

''You look like a cunt'', Noel said, sliding further down the couch and putting his hands behind his head, still eyeing Liam suspiciously. ''Thought you was a rockstar, look at the fucking state of you. I can't have that in my band''.

''Isn't **your** band, you fucker. Anyway, I'm wearing it.''

''You're not wearing it.''

''Fuck off, I am''.

''No one,'' Noel pointed his finger accusingly, ''is wearing a fucking duffle coat in my band, you get that? You look ridiculous''.

''I'm fucking wearing it,'' Liam raised his voice, ''and it's not a duffle coat ....and it **isn't** your band, end of.''

''It's a duffle coat that makes you look like a 1950's fucking housewife, what are you on about?''

''I look suave, you cunt.''

''Where d'you learn words like that eh? Suave?'', Noel drew the word out mockingly before rolling off the couch. ''Like I say, you're not wearing it. Thought you had a fiance to dress you these days anyway, what's she playing at?''

''Fuck off''. Liam was angry now. He glared as Noel came closer to him, close enough for Liam to see the look in his eyes; fixed contemptuously on his own. Liam's face was framed by the soft material of his hood, his hair messed around his forehead and his skin starkly pale against the black wool. He looked young, and too thin, and his eyes were still brighter than sunlit water; '' _like a fucking angel_ '', Noel's mind supplied. God, he hated this little brother of his.

Noel spoke quietly. ''You're going to take that scruffy fucking thing off and launch it in the nearest bin, right? And tell me to fuck off again and you'll be crying to Guigs with your teeth in your hands''.

Liam's mouth was a hard line as he stared at his brother, resentful. Noel felt the usual anger starting to rise in his chest, the same he always felt when Liam dug his heels in and pushed back at his older brother's orders. He breathed out slightly as Liam dropped his eyes and stepped back, but he could see Liam clench his fist already. The punch missed Noel's face, as his reflex pulled him backwards sharply and he almost fell over. Grabbing an arm of the expensive coat, he jerked a knee into Liam's crotch, causing him to spit out a stream of swearing and bend double in pain.

It had been a coward's move, Noel knew. He didn't care. He felt an overwhelming urge to push Liam with all his force, slam him to the ground and stamp on his head until Noel's own head quietened. He felt sick. He always felt sick around any fight, dread rising in his stomach. He didn't need to think hard to know why. Memories died hard for him, or never died at all. '' _Drama, drama, always fucking drama_ '', he thought, turning away as Liam breathed heavily on the floor. He couldn't even remember what the rage was about. The rage that was trying to climb out of his own throat and throttle him. Why could he never remember what they were ever fighting about? Noel rubbed his eyes tiredly.

There was a bang on the door and Alan's voice in the hall; ' _'ten minutes till showtime, fuckers!_ ''. Guigsy was giggling somewhere down the corridor and Alan sounded drunkenly loud. Noel ignored Liam and went out to join them; not missing the sound of a table being tipped over and shattering behind him as he closed the door.

He needed drugs. Now.

Ten minutes later he stood motionless at the side of the stage, hidden behind a speaker, watching the crowd breathe as one. Noel's eyes stung. He wanted to sleep but the coke's honey-drip at the back of his throat made his blood tingle in his veins; he was ready to stand on top of the world and watch it kneel before him. Ready for heaven and hell and everything in between. Ready for anything.

A girl in the crowd was leaning against the barriers, skinny and long-limbed and bored. A pale face framed by silky dark hair, all sharp cheekbones and frowning brows; she was trying to light a cigarette in the spitting rain. Noel stared at her. '' _She looks like Liam_ '' his treacherous mind whispered quietly, '' _except he's prettier_ ''. He felt too hot suddenly. He hadn't been ready for that.

Someone pushed him forward, the whole band were crowding behind him, roadies dawdling in the shadows, and then he was walking out and Liam was already at the edge of the stage; soaking up the adoration without seeming to even notice it. Noel felt the usual surge of adrenaline, the rush of being the greatest thing alive in the world right now, and nodded approvingly.

This gig was going to be alright.

Noel would never understand it; how Liam could be so sickeningly beautiful, after barely any sleep, even less food, and a fool's cocktail of whiskey, lager and cocaine. The kid still wore the coat, the hood was still up, the ridiculous toggles shone with rain drops. The crowd swirled at his feet, as he watched them through strands of damp hair, sullen and unmoving. Noel knew he would never forget the image as Liam turned to stare at him from the front of the stage, sitting there like he was on a park bench and there weren't a thousand screaming fans right in front of him.

Liam's stare was cold and triumphant and Noel didn't know what the feeling in his gut meant but he was walking across the stage and maybe he'd intended to punch his little brother in his angelic face but instead he draped his arms around Liam's shoulders and clasped his hands across his chest. He felt Liam lean back slightly against his knee and turn to look up, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Noel was frozen as he watched Liam blink up at him; blue eyes and soft lashes and his mouth too close to Noel's own.

The crowd were chanting and Alan was tapping out a rhythm to start a sea of hands clapping, adrenaline washing in waves over the stage. Liam smirked, a tiny quirk of his lips and a raised eyebrow. Then he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, slowly and deliberately, still staring up at his brother. It looked like a taunt, or a challenge. Noel leaned down, over his brother, his hands possessively held over his throat, daring Liam to move. He could feel the drizzle on the back of his neck, and remembered that Patsy was out there in the crowd somewhere. Remembered they were probably on the screens at the side of the stage, in detail for all to see. He wanted them to see. At least, he wanted _her_ to see. To see who Liam belonged to first and last and always.

The soft buzz of drugs and alcohol in Noel's blood faded as he kissed Liam. It felt for a second as if his heart was going to climb out of his chest when his lips touched Liam's; the yell of the crowd sounding muffled and faraway, like a wall of water had risen between them, leaving him alone with Liam and his ridiculous duffle coat. Noel felt the wool rough against his hands as his little brother tipped his head back to be kissed; so unresisting and willing that it made Noel shiver. He wondered briefly if this was a good idea; them kissing on stage in front of 80,000 Scottish teenagers, but the thought was lost as Liam opened his mouth and Noel's world narrowed down to the warmth of Liam's tongue pushing against his, urgent and sloppy and over too soon. Maybe this was a dream, maybe he would wake up in a moment, maybe he only wanted to keep kissing Liam until the world ended. Noel didn't know. All he could do was breathe into the kiss, hoping Liam could feel what it meant. It meant _I'm sorry_ and _you're beautiful,_ and _I love you_. All the words Noel could never say.

He didn't know how he ended up back at his amp, his guitar slung round his shoulder, the opening chords of Aquiesce raising a roar from the crowd. But as he stared out at the sea of faces and heard his lyrics hurled back at him by a thousand voices, he could still taste Liam on his tongue and wondered if he was going mad. Euphorically, dizzyingly mad. He still didn't know.

But he knew one thing. Soon, someone would see what he was. What Liam was. Soon, no one would believe them when they said they were joking, that they were coked out of their minds, that they hated each other, that there was nothing else to it. The euphoria was cooling, turning to dread in Noel's gut as he played. He knew what he needed to do, and it made him sick, but he promised it to himself anyway. He would never, never, kiss Liam again. They were over. They had to be.

**********

**Noel opened his eyes, a sudden ache in his chest. Christ, he felt old. Old, tired and drunk, sitting on his own in his fucking beautiful house, raking up memories of the old days like a miserable git. Why was he even still awake? It was 3.47 AM. On a Thursday morning. The sky outside was brightening, a couple of birds making a racket already. He should go to sleep.**

**But he remembered everything. And for a moment, all Noel wanted was to stay there, in the memories. Keep his eyes shut and ignore the world for just a moment, whilst he stood there, back in time, watching Liam on that dreary stage in the mizzling Highland rain.**

**He hummed the line that stuck in his head. '' _Let the storm rage, I'd die on the waves_ ''.....Frowning, he tapped the icon for Record Audio on his phone, and started to strum again. Noel listened to the chords and let the melody in his head find the words for him. '' _So don't walk away love_ ''... **

**'' _I'd die on the waves, but I will not rest while love lies dead in the water_ ''.... **

**The guitar made a hollow noise as it was dropped on the sofa. Noel suddenly needed a cigarette. He hadn't smoked properly for months, but he still knew where his fags were in his studio, and he knew he needed one now.**

**Outside, in the cool garden, he watched the lighter flame sputter and breathed in a drag of bitter, silky smoke. His eyes were wet, and stinging, but he could blame the smoke. The melody still echoed in his head. The words were heavy in his chest. Noel rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to push away the thoughts of soft lips and limpid eyes. He tipped the cigarette ash into a plant pot and sighed. It was time to sleep and forget old memories. And probably forget that song. It was too melancholic anyway, the chords were too wistful and Sara would say it was depressing.**

**He lit another cigarette. The birds were singing properly now, a line of creamy gold light starting to push into the blue night sky on the east horizon.**

**A little red dot flashed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had forgotten the recording. Noel huffed out a laugh, wondering if anyone ever stole his phone, what they might make of a thirty-minute recording that contained three minutes of a mumbled demo then twenty-seven minutes of someone searching through drawers looking for a pack of Marlboro Lights and then smoking them whilst some birds whistled. He tapped Stop, and stared at the screen for a moment. He should just delete it, it wasn't worth keeping. If it was, he would remember it. And anyway, it had been fucking maudlin, wine-fuelled noodling at 3am. He wouldn't miss it.**

**The birds warbled on.**

**Noel saved the file as deadinthewater.mp3, and made a copy just in case.**

**The melody was still rolling somewhere behind his eyes as he stubbed out the cigarette, his hands icy.**

**The bed was cold as he crawled under the cover, rolling over to lie on Sara's side. The pillow smelled of her, sweet and familiar. He closed his eyes and breathed the scent in, guilt settling uncomfortably behind his ribs. His body felt exhausted and sleep crept over him gradually, the light sky outside dusting the room with grey.**

**The melody hummed to itself in his head.**

**_''We're trying to get back to the promised land''._ **


End file.
